


Tattoo

by Wolf_dog



Category: Sherlock (BBC)
Genre: Dark Sherlock, Dom Sherlock, Dominant Sherlock, M/M, Possessive Sherlock, Sex, Sub John, home-made tattoo, submissive John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 17:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1613114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_dog/pseuds/Wolf_dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock wants to claim John more visibly, something so that everyone who ever sees John will know that he is Sherlock's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tattoo

It had started out the same as every other time – with Sherlock behind John, with John on his hands and knees on Sherlock’s magnificent king bed and Sherlock pounding into John from behind, whispering encouragements and grunted out praises as John moaned helplessly. And then, Sherlock had shifted slightly, reaching onto the bedside table and picking up two somethings, unscrewing one of them.

John cried out in pain, not pleasure, as the knife dug into his back, something trickling down the blade and into the cut. Sherlock shushed him softly, tenderly, and kept carving into his skin. The pain drew him back from the edge of orgasm he’d been on. He was crying, whimpering Sherlock’s name, but still thrusting back into Sherlock’s cock, wanting some pleasure to counteract the pain. Sherlock was crooning, telling John how good he was, how it wouldn’t take long.

John was only seventeen, and he’d never had a piercing or gotten a tattoo, and this _hurt_. But, John didn’t protest or complain. Because this was _Sherlock_ and John loved Sherlock and would do anything to please his nineteen year old boyfriend, even if it hurt. John could feel the blood running down his back, and dripping onto the covers below him. But the words Sherlock was soothing him with made it worth it, and he bore it until Sherlock lifted the knife from his skin.

Sherlock bent over him, grasping his hips and thrusting harder, and John came into the sheets below with a shout. Tears streaking his face, John turned his head and looked up as Sherlock orgasmed into him.

Pulling out of him, Sherlock rolled to the side and gathered John in his arms tenderly, kissing away the tears. “It’s okay, John. It’s over,” Sherlock soothed, and John nodded.

“Come on, sit up. I have to bandage you up,” Sherlock murmured, hefting John into a sitting position while he rummaged in his bedside draws and emerged with a bandage, and John lifted his arms with a wince, and Sherlock bound it up tightly.

Once done, John slumped back down on the bed, and Sherlock gathered John onto his chest, wrapping his arms about the younger teen possessively and kissing John lovingly.

“What did you do?” John murmured, his tone not accusatory.

“I gave you a tattoo,” Sherlock responded.

“What does it say?” John asked, sleepy now.

Sherlock might have responded, or he may have stayed silent, but John didn’t know, as he was fast to fall asleep once the question was out of his mouth.

*.*.*.*.*.

The whole of the next day, Sherlock coddled John and cared for him, looking after his every needs and putting cream on the wounds and bandaging it back up. John enjoyed being cared for like this, despite the pain. It was worth it to see Sherlock looked so pleased.

John had to go home that night, seeing as they had university the next morning, and pretend to his parents that he was fine and everything was alright and he’d ‘studied’ hard with Sherlock.

On Monday, John wasn’t in his normal cheerful mood like he would be after spending his weekend at Sherlock’s house and getting his brains fucked out on every surface in the gigantic house.

John made his way to the university that he and Sherlock shared, and he went to the cafeteria, getting a tea for him and a coffee for Sherlock and then went to their meeting spot. John was surprised when arms came around him from behind and nuzzled his neck. John tilted his head back automatically and gave a smile.

“You’re normally much happier than this. What’s wrong?” Sherlock questioned as he sucked a mark into the back of John’s neck (as if all the marks Sherlock had adorned him with over the weekend hadn’t been enough).

“It hurts,” John told Sherlock softly, and lifted Sherlock’s cup of coffee, which his boyfriend took.

“The pain will fade with time,” Sherlock said soothingly, and John nodded, relaxing.

He trusted Sherlock. He had no idea what the tattoo was, but he trusted Sherlock. He wanted to ask Sherlock questions like _why_ and _why did you never ask permission_ and _what made you do this_. Instead, he asked, “What colour is the ink?”

Sherlock gave John a kiss that let John know that his boyfriend was pleased, and replied, “Blue. To match your eyes.”

*.*.*.*.*.

There, carved on his back, going from the bottom of his armpit on his left side all the way down to the top of his butt, was:

I

Belong to

Sherlock

Holmes


End file.
